The Xavier Mansion Diaries
by Troll Princess
Summary: A spoof of "Bridget Jones's Diary" in which the X-Men, the Brotherhood, and other characters from the movieverse write down their version of the events of "X-Men" and "X2". Spoilers for both movies.
1. The Maid

Disclaimer / Author's Note: Let's pretend everyone in the mansion (heck, everyone in the whole X-Men movieverse) had a diary. And let's pretend that they were all written like Bridget Jones's diary. And *then* let's pretend that I didn't get the idea from Cassandra, who writes the Lord of the Rings diaries. (Google 'em. Find 'em. Come back when you're done laughin'.)   
And while we're at it, let's pretend that these characters are not owned by Marvel or 20th Century Fox or whoever it is that has 'em this week, and let's pretend they're owned by ME. In that case, I'll be auctioning off everyone except Wolverine and Iceman, whom I'll be putting into cold storage until he's legal. Don't worry, I'll give him a couple of magazines and a Playstation. He'll be fine.   
  
Son of Author's Note: The timeline is ... eh. Close enough. Spoilers for the first and second movie, so you're forewarned.   
  
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The Xavier Mansion Diaries: The Maid   
by Troll Princess   
********************************  
  
DAY ONE   
  
Alcohol units: 1. Cigarettes: 13. Considering the reasons for all, may not be trying hard enough.   
  
Am being driven insane by hyperactive Chinese girl and blond boy-band reject. Professor and redheaded trollop off to Washington, so have left bloke with funny sunglasses in charge. Obviously, man should not be left in charge of an ant farm, as children have gone absolutely mad. Cleaned bathroom after boy-band reject had left only to find shower stall covered in ice. Am not sure how he did it, but am positive it involves some sort of teenage sexual thing I'd rather not know about.   
  
Chinese girl, on the other hand, has filled the linen closet with tapioca pudding. Again, no idea how this was done, but maybe I should warn her that the vacuum cleaner has a reverse mechanism and I know where her underwear drawer is.   
  
DAY TWO   
  
Bloke with sunglasses and white-haired tart off to S&M convention, if outfits any indication. Professor and redhead back from Washington. Children back to pretending they're sane.   
  
Professor asking why his bed smells like pudding. Decided to pretend I don't speak English.   
  
DAY THREE   
  
Leather-clad pair returned from Canada with skittish bint and unconscious and unshaven but still yummy dish. Adorable bloke taken down to med-lab.   
  
Can pretty much assure you, diary, that med-lab now cleanest room in the mansion. Go, me!   
  
DAY FOUR   
  
Help! Boys have decided that skittish bint most attractive creature on God's green earth and have resolved to sweep her off her feet. Boy-band reject leaving melting ice sculptures all over my clean floors. Russian brickhouse leaving holes in mansion ceilings after juggling toasters to impress her. Rebellious kid with lighter burning stupid romantic sentiments onto priceless family heirlooms.   
  
May abduct skittish bint and ship her off to Guam to save myself hours of work. Have not decided yet, as am getting the impression the female students may do this for me.   
  
In other news, sexy chap in med-lab now shirtless. Day cannot get any worse with *that* lying around the mansion.   
  
DAY FIVE   
  
Cigarettes: 20. Every single one needed after nummy med-lab hottie awoke and ran through mansion shirtless. May not be able to move legs anytime soon. Left a trail of possibly biohazardous waste in lower level, but as was worn by sexy psycho, won't complain when I have to clean them up.   
  
*Probably*. Probably won't complain.   
  
DAY SIX   
  
Yummy Canadian lying unconscious and shirtless, this time in his bedroom. Have changed mind -- *definitely* won't be complaining, as lose all control of my tongue whenever I catch sight of the man.   
  
Competition for the bint's affections now going full-throttle. So far, have found all of the toilets in the men's bathroom frozen solid, fourteen Playboys somehow stuck in the wall of the boys's room, and the foosball table in the TV room flipped upside down as if it had always been that way. Was tempted to have someone right the bloody thing, but heard a strange growling noise from underneath it and have since resorted to lifting up a corner, tossing in a fresh steak, and slamming the thing to the ground while I still have all of my toes.   
  
Also, must learn to perfect proper poker face, as have filled the closets in the boys's rooms with barbecue sauce and mayonnaise and may not be able to keep from giggling hysterically for much longer.   
  
DAY SEVEN   
  
V.v. good news, as skittish bint has run away and taken all of her never-ending laundry with her. Hooray!   
  
However, also v.v. bad news, as second-floor now ankle deep in noxious BBQ-sauce-and-mayo mess. Considering all the strange goings-on in this place, have told the Professor that condiments made wrong turn at Albuquerque through interdimensional portal. Amazingly, he seemed to buy it. Right stupid bloke, isn't he?   
  
As was emptying garbage cans in lower levels, overheard sexy bloke and uptight moron with the sunglasses arguing heatedly in the hallway over runaway girl. Considering their volume, am allowed three options -- either both fighting over skittish bint, both fighting over redheaded trollop, or both secretly want to ditch trollop and bint and shack up for lover's trysts in med-lab.   
  
Please let option C be wrong, please let option C be wrong ...   
  
DAY EIGHT   
  
Ugh. Med-lab a disaster area. According to white-haired tart, melted senator all over everything. Bloke's watery remains currently clogging up the wet vac. Suddenly thankful I don't vote.   
  
Also, wish I didn't have to do so much laundry. White-haired tart and reheaded trollop taken to changing clothes as if they're in a bloody fashion show.   
  
DAY NINE   
  
Professor unconscious in the med-lab. Teachers gone. Sexy Canadian gone. Students smiling at me. Chinese girl and boy-band reject just walked by carrying two bottles of ketchup, a giant tube of superglue, and a twenty-five pound bag of cat litter.   
  
Becoming mildly alarmed now an incredible understatement.   
  
FIVE MINUTES LATER   
  
Good Lord, I can't get up from my chair.   
  
FIVE MINUTES LATER   
  
Have no idea where that strange smell is coming from, but considering the crazed gleam in the eyes of the students, cannot possibly come to any good.   
  
DAY TEN   
  
White-haired tart constantly following me around and apologizing for leaving me alone with the students last night. Others came home yesterday to find me glued to my chair, which was glued to the ceiling, with my hair dyed blue and my entire body doused in ketchup. Was going to complain, but large bonus check roughly the size of the gross national product of France more than enough compensation.   
  
However, have decided to play up my sorrow, as is great fun to watch the tart yammer on about how I'll grow that skin back before I know it and how she's sure that the blue hair dye will come out with enough shampoo scrubbings.   
  
Skittish bint apparently ran off to get bad streak job on her bangs and personality transplant. Has been killing time by flicking cigar ashes at my head and calling me "bub". Also, keeps grabbing the redhead's ass. Ha! Feel immensely vindicated, as knew someone in this place had to be gay.   
  
Sexy unshaven dish once again shirtless and on his back in the med-lab. Spends so much of his time in that condition, it's a real pity more of it isn't spent conscious.   
  
DAY ELEVEN   
  
Yummy Canadian off on grand adventure to find past. Let redheaded trollop and skittish bint behind, but stole boring bloke's motorcycle. Have decided to ignore homoerotic subtext to their relationship until something less sub and more text pops up.   
  
Hmm. Have reread last sentence and suppose that "pops up" is a bad phrase to use during this particular discussion. Let's see ... reveals itself, emerges, comes up ...   
  
Perhaps buying a thesaurus is in order. Well, that, or less porn.   
  
DAY FOURTEEN   
  
White-haired tart apparently lost accent in mansion. Reward poster hanging up by cafeteria.   
  
DAY FIFTEEN   
  
Tart has now replaced spotty African accent with whiny Minnewegean one. May destroy her copy of "Fargo" before things go too far.   
  
DAY THIRTY   
  
Hooray! Tasty Canadian back from sightseeing trip. Tasty Canadian's arse also back. Not sure which I missed more.   
  
Teachers obviously learned lesson after the superglue debacle. Have left sexy psycho in charge for night, but personally expect he wil buy the students beer, rent them porn, and teach them all how to kill a man with a cocktail weenie. Am staying in, as death by cocktail weenie not something I really want to experience.   
  
New plan: Hide in room until responsible adult or trained emergency personnel arrive to break things up. Good plan!   
  
DAY THIRTY-ONE   
  
Am resigning, effective immediately. Am not sure how they can possibly expect me to do my job when mansion is swarming with soldiers and students insist on killing them violently or throwing them through walls.   
  
On the other hand, children missing, teachers gone, and second-in-command of soldiers apparently poured into his uniform. Tried to find downside to situation, but as worst things so far are muddy boot tracks through the hallways and blood all over the foyer, cannot even begin to complain.   
  
DAY THIRTY-TWO   
  
Second-in-command wants me to stay with him *where?!*   
  
Am reconsidering my resignation, as while mansion has its disadvantages, also has heating system, American money, and windows. Suspect that living in dam vast difference.   
  
Hmm. Wonder if I should get the Professor before I go.   
  
Nope, seems happy enough. Talking to imaginary little girl, wearing a funny helmet. Must be an improvement over mansion, really. Can't possibly be opposed to me raiding his pockets, though. No, of course not.   
  
Now, where was that helicopter ... 


	2. The Professor

Author's note: I know the timeline's all goofy, but people in these stupid movies need to start wearing watches, 'cause that'd help.   
  
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The Xavier Mansion Diaries: Professor Charles Xavier  
by Troll Princess  
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DAY ONE  
  
Have gone to Washington with Jean, leaving Scott in charge of the students. Ha! Sucker. Cannot believe he fell for either one of those propositions. Would not be the least bit surprised if we returned to the mansion to find the man with his eyebrows shaved, his skin dyed red, and the mansion upside down.  
  
As for Jean, have got her all to myself until tomorrow. Hmm. Wonder if she's ever heard that saying about bald men in big chairs --  
  
OW!  
  
FIVE MINUTES LATER  
  
In my excitement, momentarily slipped my mind that Jean telepathic as well as telekinetic. Thankfully, Jean standing at podium adorned with heavy gavel which she was all too keen to fling across the room with her powers as a reminder.   
  
Hey, there's Erik. Wonder if *he's* ever heard that saying about --  
  
OW!  
  
DAY TWO  
  
Have downed my way through half a bottle of aspirin since yesterday, as Jean obviously rifling through the part of my brain that's the most hard up. Last time, was only given grumbled warning about her aversion to black leather corsets and her allergy to butterscotch before the pie hit my face. Suppose I asked for that one.  
  
In other news, took a peek into Erik's head and found out he's sent minion on wild goose chase for mutant to use in nefarious plan. Knowing Erik, mysterious mutant either broody, sexy boy toy or reject from Cartoon Network rerun. Can only hope for the latter, as between Scott and John, have more than the mansion's quota of the former.  
  
DAY THREE  
  
Scott and Storm back from Canada with unconscious stranger and easily spooked teenager. Mansion now a disaster area, as teenage male mutants's idea of wooing a girl like Rogue apparently involves centrally localized armageddon.  
  
Mansion not getting any cleaner, either, as besotted maid practically living in the med-lab. Have warned Jean to keep an eye out, as would not be all that surprised if maid caught giving Logan long, involved tongue bath.  
  
Then again, as have yet to pass by anyone in the mansion who *hasn't* thought of giving Logan long, involved tongue bath, cannot really fault her any.  
  
DAY FOUR  
  
Gave male students stern talking-to in regards to attempts to woo Rogue, as at this rate, mansion should be smoking pile of cinders within the week.   
  
However, am finding the irony of the situation amusing, since great sucking mutant vortex of painful death now has better chance at a sex life than I do.  
  
DAY FIVE  
  
V. good news, as Logan now awake and vertical. Hooray! Honestly, am only happy due to guilty pleasure of making rest of the mansion jealous during solo school tour.   
  
Seriously, only reason.  
  
I mean it.  
  
Oh, for heaven's sake.  
  
LATER  
  
Hey, wonder if he's heard --  
  
Uh-oh. Feral stranger now giving *himself* a tongue bath. Would tell him to stop, but sight strangely hypnotic. Also, anticipation of Jean's reaction to mental image too good to give up on.  
  
DAY SIX  
  
Major excitement last night, as Rogue drained away Logan's power and left him unconscious. Have decided not to reprimand her, since Logan probably requested it to get felt up by Jean again. Lousy git. Wonder if he'd like to spend the rest of the week thinking he's a Pomeranian.  
  
Unfortunately, chaos erupting among students again, as rumors about Rogue sucking away Logan's power until he passed out being *grossly* misconstrued by male members of the student body. Competition for her hand (and certain other body parts) now reaching Olympic-calibur proportions. May have to put grandfather's urn into storage before Piotr decides to juggle *that*, as well.  
  
Hmm. Wonder if Piotr's ever heard --  
  
OW!  
  
You know, she couldn't even *do* that a month ago.   
  
DAY SEVEN  
  
Rogue a runaway. Ororo and Jean repeatedly changing outfits as if it's a nervous condition. Scott and Logan verbally snipping at one another to hide the sexual tension.  
  
As if we don't have enough problems, now have to worry about spontaneously generating interdimensional portals in dorm closets that erupt sandwich dressings. Am officially not surprised by *anything* anymore. Have sent Storm to investigate. Anything to get her to stop changing clothes.  
  
*sigh* May fake coma to get much-needed vacation from this madhouse.  
  
DAY EIGHT  
  
Yay! Due to Erik's calculated machinations, am now lying comatose in the med-lab. So much for faking it.  
  
Would probably be enjoying a much nicer vacation from it all if ditzy British maid had bothered to clean Senator Kelly goo off of the table. Or if anyone had bothered to put anything on me under this stupid blanket.  
  
Eww. Senator goo squishing in uncomfortable places. Either that, or ...  
  
You know, have decided I would rather not think too much on that.  
  
DAY NINE  
  
One thousand, seventy-five, one thousand, seventy-six ... officially one thousand and seventy-seven ceiling tiles in the med-lab.   
  
Hmm. Wish someone had bothered to close my eyes, since ceiling tiles now becoming main source of entertainment.  
  
DAY TEN  
  
Finally awoke from coma to find Logan once again lying unconscious in the med-lab. Healing factor, my ass. The man spends more time unconscious than the coma patients on "Days of Our Lives". Can only believe it's a thinly veiled attempt to keep Jean's grubby little mitts all over him, as it was one of the main reasons I stayed out of it so long, too.  
  
Also, Rogue apparently now after Jean as well, as made move to grab her rear at dinnertime. Thought it was extraordinarily funny until she started winking at me and asking me why Erik had Mystique so well trained in turning into me.   
  
Have decided to ignore such comments, as they make me grow sentimental of old times, terribly jealous of Mystique, and embarrassingly horny.  
  
DAY ELEVEN  
  
Logan gone on grand adventure to find past. As he took Scott's bike with him, was forced to listen to Scott whine about it all afternoon. Tempted to ditch ethics regarding using my powers for an hour and make Scott think he was in love with Logan, but pretty sure whining would only intensify and Siryn would develop a complex at the sound of it.  
  
DAY THIRTEEN  
  
Argh! Am disgusted by Storm's on-off accent, so have decided to do something about it. Ethics regarding mutant abilities set aside for now, as ridding her of that annoying affectation can only be good for mankind.   
  
DAY SIXTEEN  
  
V.v. good news, as Storm's accent gone the way of the dinosaurs. As ridding her of accent more fun than anticipated, have spent entire day trying out new ones on her. So far, have decided that French too snooty, New York too harsh, and Southern likely to distract the male students into wearing baggier pants to class.  
  
DAY TWENTY  
  
Wonder if I could do something about that haircut of Storm's. Nasty thing looking more and more like cheap Halloween wig with every passing day.  
  
DAY TWENTY-SEVEN  
  
Have decided to go back to that no-powers rule, as haircutting experiment on Storm a disaster. Woman obviously left the mansion and went directly to the nearest hairstylist in 1978. Suppose I should be happy, since at least she didn't get a mohawk.   
  
Hmm. Could kill for some of Erik's chocolate cheesecake right now.   
  
No, seriously.  
  
DAY THIRTY  
  
V. good news, as Logan back from Alkali Lake. Unfortunately found nothing there, but still hoping that he cannot possibly have been stupid enough not to check belowground.  
  
Am off with Scott to ask Erik about assassination attempt and chocolate cheesecake recipe, as cannot live without added knowledge of either any longer. Cannot say I'm anticipating the trip, as Scott's taste in music beyond atrocious. Man has strange unholy attachment to boy bands I cannot even begin to comprehend.  
  
DAY THIRTY-ONE  
  
Oh, just *perfect*. Have been kidnapped by evil soldiers and locked in dripping basement with catatonic former student. Round of pokeno out of the question, as mutant lunatic much more interested in playing hopscotch with my brain.  
  
Huh. Illusions amazingly realistic. Cannot help but wonder if he takes requests, as have had ongoing fantasy about Jean, Catherine Zeta-Jones, and kiddie pool of Kool Whip I've been dying to take for a spin.  
  
DAY THIRTY-TWO  
  
Am officially pissed off, as brain has been used like popular Muppet by at least two mutants in last twenty-four hours. Certainly bad enough when crazed catatonic vegetable wandered around my head in drag as a very badly-dressed ten-year-old Now Jean's got me giving drippy goodbyes to milksop boyfriend.  
  
Have considered myself lucky, though, as I took over again before either one of them got any funny ideas about sloppy goodbye kisses. Have had quite enough mental damage for today, thank you very much. Am not even going to start on snarky maid rifling through my pockets for loose change while out of it.  
  
However, did get big hug from teleporting Smurf. Go, me! Wonder if he's heard --  
  
OW!  
  
Oh, come on! She's not even in the bloody plane right now!  
  
DAY THIRTY-THREE  
  
Jean dead. Logan broody. Scott depressed and whiny. So basically, only difference between this week and last Jean's corpse at bottom of Alkali Lake.  
  
You know, Scott's kind of cute when he's grieving. Wonder if he's ever heard --  
  
Oh, I give up. 


	3. Mystique

Author's note: I'm sorry, but I had to sneak my favorite TV show in here somewhere. *eg*   
  
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The Xavier Mansion Diaries: Mystique  
  
by Troll Princess  
  
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DAY ONE  
  
Erik off to Washington to parade around in well-tailored suit and taunt Charles. Both things may or may not be related. Caught Erik checking out well-tailored pants in mirror to see if they made his butt look big, so can't be all that sure.  
  
Also, feel as if I'm babysitting and not getting paid, as Sabertooth and Toad at it again. Told Toad that sticking his tongue out at the great hairy jerk a bad idea, but advice obviously didn't sink in, as spent forty-five minutes this afternoon helping Toad unwind the damn thing from the grating in the cliff. Might have been less difficult if Sabertooth hadn't double-knotted the bow at the end.  
  
DAY TWO  
  
Erik back from Washington. Immediately sent Sabertooth on wild goose chase for weirdo mutant in Canada and Toad to local Circle K for pork rinds before sidling up to me on the couch and asking me to turn into Charles and call him "pookie".   
  
May lock myself in the room for the night, but am not all that sure I want to spend all that time alone pondering Erik's fixation with bald men in big chairs.  
  
DAY THREE   
  
Am officially freezing my ass off in this icebox of a lair. Turning into Eskimo complete with huge parka not even working. Would give my eye-teeth for a velour sweatsuit right now.  
  
DAY FOUR  
  
May kill Toad and Sabertooth in their sleep, as hiding-the-TV-remote game reaching new levels. Cannot emphasize enough how bitchy I get when I miss "Full House".   
  
DAY FIVE  
  
Ugh. Have spent all day masquerading as snotty assistant to bigoted senator, and can only say after looking through his desk that snot-nosed punk deserved to be eaten by Sabertooth. Annoying repeated claims by Sabes that assistant tasted like chicken surely made worth it by Danielle Steel novels in his briefcase and "Mmm-Bop" as the ringer on his cell phone.   
  
In other news, hopefully can avoid Erik and pals for the rest of the night, as have no idea how to explain cell-phone-shaped bump on my chest. Am pretty sure that calling putting it into my jacket before changing back into me a blond moment apt to set off Sabertooth hissy fit.   
  
DAY SIX  
  
V. good news, as Erik's test of funky new mutant-making machine a complete success. Unfortunately, also v. bad news, as senator now squishy enough to escape.  
  
Would have been perfectly willing to go looking for the idiot -- however, have been hiding out in my room ever since Erik's proud and well-practiced speech to senator interrupted twice by frustrating trill of "Mmm-Bop" from the general direction of my right breast.  
  
DAY SEVEN  
  
Spent day wandering around Xavier's school as blond prettyboy. Was having a perfectly good time causing mischief and being all evil-like until that Summers creep came up to me and practically begged me to sing a few bars of "Backstreet's Back." Was slowly backing away when sneaky Chinese chit dumped what had to have been an entire forestful of maple syrup on my head.   
  
Have no idea what the little blond bastard did to deserve such treatment, but cannot get out of the place fast enough.  
  
DAY EIGHT   
  
Alcohol units: 12. Only way to warm up in this joint. This keeps up, and I may have to start stealing clothes from skittish teenager. Not like she couldn't live without a scarf or two, as is apparent that girl left Xavier's wearing every piece of clothing she's owned since birth.   
  
DAY TEN  
  
Sinister plans foiled. Erik arrested. Have been stabbed in stomach by pissy Wolverine, and am now being subjected to nasty three-times-daily servings of Jell-O and hockey pucks the nurses swear are meatloaf.   
  
However, cannot possibly be as bad as scene back at lair, as have no doubt that Toad's tongue so fried he's simply left the damn thing dangling out of his mouth and Sabertooth presumably licking his wounds and grumbling about how they taste like pus.  
  
DAY ELEVEN  
  
Have left hospital and gone to Washington to masquerade as Senator Kelly. Ugh. Hope I can leave soon, as can only keep up these nonexistant lips and fish-belly cheeks for so long before I yack.  
  
DAY TWELVE  
  
V. good news, as have left Washington and returned to lair. Ah, home sweet ...  
  
All right, where'd my Antonio Banderas poster go? And what's that stench?  
  
DAY THIRTEEN  
  
Apparently, absence of authority figures has driven Sabertooth and Toad back to early childhood. Have found cherry bombs in lair's toilets, rubber spiders in my underwear drawer, and strange smell I don't even want to try and identify coming from underneath my bed. Can't decide which of the others to kick out of their bedrooms, as Sabertooth sheds and leaves unsightly stains, and Toad drools.  
  
DAY SEVENTEEN  
  
Ha! V. good news, as have won bet with Erik over whether or not constant bickering between Sabertooth and Toad really lover's quarrels in disguise. Pair left note taped to front door of lair -- "Sick of being lackeys. Both need to see chiropractors because of all the metal furniture. Off to Vermont to get married and start an emu farm." Do not even want to begin thinking about what the children will look like.  
  
Only unfortunate bit the inability of Erik to pay up, as is still trapped in plastic jail. Not entirely awful, however, as have decided to call up to the people at "Trading Spaces" to arrange for the redecorating of the lair. Go, me!  
  
DAY NINETEEN  
  
Hooray! Have gotten in touch with villain in lair across the way, and Sinister only too happy to join in on "Trading Spaces" episode. Said something about getting his brother Larry to help out. As Toad and Sabertooth currently honeymooning at Vermont B&B, have been racking my brain all day to come up with possible replacements.  
  
Wonder who the lair's designer will be. Am hoping it will be Vern, as may end up killing or maiming several crew members if Kia comes anywhere near the place.  
  
As for potential partner, had to call half of the villains in Erik's little black book before Christopher Lowell agreed to come over. Was perfectly happy with the arrangement before it hit me that I'd grabbed the wrong little black book.  
  
Or maybe I didn't. May have to check with Erik on that one.   
  
DAY TWENTY-THREE  
  
V.v. bad news, as Kia brought in to redesign the lair. Have already killed a cameraman, a grip, and that annoyingly perky host. Am really hoping that cute but dopey carpenter pulls something, as would probably receive great karmic gift when I rip his larynx out.  
  
DAY TWENTY-FIVE  
  
Argh! Kia's do-over a total disaster. Apparently out of the loop on the evil-genius's-cave-embedded-lair memo, as has gone insane and put up a ridiculous green paisley border around entire lair and a papier-mache donkey in the TV room. Not even going to start contemplating how to explain the rest of her godawful Christmas motif to Erik. Christopher Lowell no help at all, with the exception of interesting sound he made when he hit the ocean's surface.  
  
Only hope that killing Kia and burying the body on Xavier's property good enough escaping-from-jail present for the old coot.   
  
DAY THIRTY  
  
Took long enough, but finally found out where Erik has been kept. Had to deal with getting manhandled by annoying military twit and mute sidekick to find that out, but have perfect revenge in mind, as nude "Men of the Military" and "Anime Warrior Girls Come Alive!" calenders looking for models.   
  
LATER  
  
Ewwwwww. Had to make out with nasty prison guard for plan to work. Am not sure Erik pays me enough for this.  
  
DAY THIRTY-ONE  
  
Yay! Erik finally out of prison. Spent all day filling Erik in on what he missed while he was incarcerated. Thoroughly enjoyed explaining the whole "Trading Spaces" debacle ... however, had to politely decline Erik's request to turn into Charles and go shopping for window treatments.  
  
LATER  
  
Hooray! Finally found something to wash that nasty prison guard taste out of my mouth. Did you know that Wolverine's tongue tastes like caramel? Strange, huh? You'd think it'd taste like cigars or scotch or unclean body parts he'd licked or something.  
  
DAY THIRTY-TWO  
  
V.v. bad news, as plan to trick Charles into killing humans failed miserably. However, have picked up snot-nosed, rebellious teenager with broody, Connor-from-"Angel" thing going on. Hopefully, will not feel the same urge to smack him around as I do with Connor from "Angel," but if so, cannot possibly be as bad as Sabertooth or Toad.   
  
LATER  
  
Alcohol units: 10. Cigarettes: 20. Have heard teenagers are whiny, but this is ridiculous. Can only be grateful that as lair mostly rock and metal, nothing really flammable lying --  
  
OW!  
  
LATER  
  
Note to self ... no more alcohol or cigarettes in the lair. 


	4. Storm

**************************************************  
  
The Xavier Mansion Diaries: Ororo Munroe  
  
by Troll Princess  
  
**************************************************  
  
DAY ONE  
  
Professor and Jean off to Washington, but didn't get a chance to say goodbye, as have been stuck in linen closet for past ten minutes. However, have no doubt that someone will notice I'm gone and come looking for me in no time.  
  
TWO HOURS LATER  
  
Three bottles of beer on the wall, three bottles of --  
  
*sniff, sniff*  
  
Hmm. Why do I smell pudding?  
  
LATER   
  
V. bad news, as was nearly drowned in locked linen closet with pudding pumped in through upper crack in door. If there's possibly a more embarrassing way to die, honestly don't know what it could be.  
  
On the other hand, may be eligible for notoriety of Darwin Award nomination. Near-death experience by light midday snack suddenly has an upside. Go, me!  
  
Ugh. Reek of tapioca. In desperate need of hot shower and shampoo.  
  
DAY TWO  
  
Ack! Shower a total disaster! Someone apparently replaced expensive salon shampoo with Nair. Fancy new hairdo now lying on bathroom floor, which is extraordinarily disconcerting, as *I* am downstairs in the living room looking for a phone book.  
  
Have to leave for Canada in ten minutes. So, am in desperate need of wig store within five minute's drive. Either that, or may be forced to raid Professor's amazingly extensive hat collection.  
  
TEN MINUTES LATER  
  
Woohoo! At least seven Party City stores stocked for Halloween on direct flight path from Westchester to Canada. First question about unscheduled pit stop or Carmen Miranda fruit hat out of Scott, and may finally get to see whether or not centrally located rain of toads within my abilities.  
  
DAY THREE  
  
Have returned from Canada with twitchy teenager and sexy lumberjack-type. Have done superhero team math, and with Professor as chaste mentor and Scott and Jean engaged, have apparently found myself a new source of barely repressed sexual tension. V. good news, indeed!  
  
DAY FOUR  
  
Have had to shoo half of the school's population away from unconscious quasi-boyfriend. Caught snooping maid lurking nearby in med-lab constantly licking her lips as she vacuumed. Cannot expect me to buy her lousy excuses, as med-lab not even carpeted, for crying out loud.  
  
Also, now suspect Jubilee behind Nair shampoo job. Yammering minx had the gall to ask why I was wearing an albino skunk on my head. Jubilee now flunking history. Ha!  
  
DAY FIVE   
  
Yay! Unconscious prospective boyfriend now awake and ready to go with me to --  
  
Hey. Hey, why's he staring at Jean like that?  
  
LATER  
  
V.v. bad news, as unconscious prospective boyfriend apparently has the hots for Jean. Life officially unfair, as Jean has perfectly acceptable boytoy in pansy fiance.  
  
DAY SIX  
  
Am getting extraordinarily frustrated, as either have to be Rogue or Jean in this joint to get any action.  
  
Out of desperation, sat on Professor's lap between classes and offered to jump-start his spine the fun way. Unfortunately, Professor too busy staring at Piotr's rippling pectorals and mumbling something about bald men in big chairs to care v. much.  
  
Oh, yeah. Life *definitely* unfair.  
  
DAY SEVEN  
  
Yay! Rogue spooked off by spare Bobby I didn't even know we had. On the downside, Professor insists Scott and I go find her. Have no idea why he's making me go, as Rogue's ability to attract men bound to suck Scott into the train station from the parking lot.  
  
LATER  
  
See?! Ten minutes in train station and Rogue attracted Logan, Magneto, Sabertooth, and Toad. For someone who doesn't like touch, she certainly seems to get a hell of a lot of it.  
  
As if that weren't bad enoough, Professor had me start investigating strange condiment phenomenon in mansion's closets as soon as I got home. No wonder I never get laid.   
  
DAY EIGHT  
  
Eww! Forced to hold hand of gooey gelatinous senator beefore he went kerplooey all over the med-lab. Only upside the jerk's last-ditch effort to cop a feel before he exploded.  
  
Now covered in sticky Senator Kelly bits. May *never* stop changing clothes.  
  
DAY NINE  
  
V. good news, as have helped save island full of politicians from Magneto's nefarious plan. However, not all that happy, as none of *them* bothered to try at last-minute grope on me.  
  
Did get to kick some serious ass on Toad in statue's gift shop. Go, me! Was feeling really cool and tough right up until I delivered snarky final line. Could have sworn parting shot sounded so much funnier in my head.  
  
Also, think wig glue loosened by fierce battle. May have to resort to Superglue if this keeps up.  
  
DAY TEN  
  
Logan off to Canada to search for clues to his past. Perfect timing, if you ask me, as constant bickering between he and Scott starting to sound like thinly veiled lover's quarrels. Almost glad he rode out of here on Scott's bike.  
  
Hmm. Just reread last sentence and blanked out "bike" in my head. Squirmy mental image now stuck in my head and possibly may never leave.  
  
Oh, yeah. *Definitely* perfect timing.  
  
DAY THIRTEEN  
  
Huh. Could have sworn I had an African accent. Well, okay, most of the time.  
  
*Some*. Some of the time.  
  
Oh, come on! Give me just a little credit here!  
  
DAY TWENTY-FOUR  
  
V. bad news, as was about to leave for hairdressers to get new wig when damn ratty thing got caught in ceiling fan and chopped to bits. Was going to race to the salon at record speeds, but hairstyle starting to grow on me.  
  
Hey! Stop laughing!  
  
DAY TWENTY-NINE  
  
Off to New York City on school trip to museum. V. good indeed, as class trips always a guaranteed good time.  
  
TEN MINUTES LATER   
  
Okay, next person to ask me what it was like to co-star in "The Flintstones" gets struck by lightning.  
  
DAY THIRTY  
  
Have gone to Boston to get attempted Presidential assassin. Huh. Attempted Presidential assassin actually kind of cute. Granted, cuteness lies in uncanny resemblance to evil blue Popple, but *still*.  
  
DAY THIRTY-ONE  
  
Oh, *perfect*. Evil blue Popple hitting on me. Average type of man I attract now on level with carnies, "Jerry Springer" guests, and Smurfs.   
  
LATER  
  
V. good news, as was allowed to show off in plane chase with F-16s by setting up instant Tornado Alley. Am v. proud of myself, as twenty tornadoes in fifty-mile radius obviously safest route to help in escape. Good plan!  
  
DAY THIRTY-TWO  
  
Children saved. Soldiers dead. Dam breaking. Major competition for attentions of mansion's male population currently outside plane about to drown. Trying desperately to find a downside to any of this --  
  
OW!  
  
Oh, come on! Man-hogging martyr cannot possibly be allowed to get snippy during touching death scene, can she? Sheesh ...   
  
DAY THIRTY-THREE  
  
Overheard Scott and Logan having touching shoulder-to-cry-on scene outside Professor's office. Was going to offer myself up for comfort, as was lucky enough to be born with two shoulders, one for each grieving hottie.  
  
Unfortunately, touching shoulder-to-cry-on scene in hall followed immediately by angst-ridden grope session between Scott and Logan in linen closet. Argh! Have had enough. Desperately need to change clothes. And get drunk.  
  
And find enough tapioca to fill a linen closet. 


	5. Jubilee

*************************************************  
  
The Xavier Mansion Diaries: Jubilation Lee  
  
by Troll Princess  
  
*************************************************  
  
DAY ONE  
  
Am going to *kill* Bobby Drake, preferably with something slow and painful like the last season of "Buffy".  
  
As Professor and Jean have gone off to Washington, Frosty the SnowDork officially on rampage to ruin my life. Step one: stopping Scott's incredibly accurate "Risky Business" impression by reminding him that rest of us young, impressionable kids still in mansion. Big dumb nerfherder.  
  
May have been worth it to see Scott sprint back to his room to put pants on, but have now changed mind. Death too kind to the stupid walking ice chest.   
  
So, have replaced his shampoo with entire bottle of Nair. Let's see if he notices *that*.  
  
DAY TWO  
  
Hmm. Bobby still in possession of "I want to be on Lance Bass's head when I grow up" hairdo. May bring bottle of Nair back to CVS for full refund.  
  
Also, v. bad news, as linen closet filled to brim with tapioca pudding. That abominable jackass!   
  
Just watch, as teachers and maid sure to blame this idiotic dessert snack stunt of Bobby's on me.  
  
LATER  
  
See?! Have been blamed for pudding in linen closet! Well, not to my face, but only possible explanation for new contents of underwear drawer.   
  
Also, overheard maid pretending not to speak English to the Professor. Hope he wasn't actually buying it, as I could have sworn she called him a "odding-say imrod-nay".  
  
DAY THREE  
  
New contents of underwear drawer now new contents of *Drake's* underwear drawer. Go, me!  
  
In other news, sexy unconscious stranger carted into med-lab by Scott and Storm in middle of the night. Also brought home jumpy runaway girl, but who cares with tasty Canadian goodness spread out half-naked in the med-lab?  
  
Have to go talk to Jean, like, yesterday, as I plan to be first on list of volunteers to give new mutant daily sponge baths. Long, slow ...  
  
OW!   
  
Hey! How the heck does she *do* that?  
  
DAY FOUR  
  
Storm looking for apology out of me, but have no idea what for. Can only think to apologize for fugly, unconditioned hairdo, but since it's not my fault, cannot possibly be blamed for that one. Whew!  
  
DAY FIVE  
  
Ugh. Guys hitting on Rogue in class today. *Again*. Considering trying to make out with her about as likely to succeed as make-out attempt with ravenous barracuda, am starting to believe evil mutant secretly sucking the intelligence from every boy in school.  
  
Can't help but think that any attempt to use zapped intelligence from this crowd bound to result in all-night Cheetos-and-Mountain-Dew bender during world's longest Adam Sandler film fest.   
  
DAY SIX  
  
Argh! Am officially cheesed off, as boys in this school have gone *insane*. None of them apparently smart enough to figure out that if actual act of making out with overly dressed new chick doesn't kill them, insane hottie with metal claws will probably have a go at it.   
  
Am hoping that John makes the first move on her, as the galatically lame moron was the idiot who melted my signed David Boreanaz photo. Dick.  
  
As for Bobby, hope he didn't plan on keeping those Playboys of his, as Kitty all too happy to stick 'em in the walls of the boys's room. Go, me! (And Kitty. But mostly me.)  
  
DAY SEVEN  
  
Ugh! V.v. bad news, as icky, smelly, ankle-deep mess now all over the upstairs. Apparently, boys's closets now throwing up condiments in great nasty waves all over the place. All right, *definitely* have an alibi for this one, as was stealing all of the maple syrup from the kitchen to dump over Bobby's head.  
  
...  
  
Okay, so maybe I *don't* have an alibi.  
  
DAY EIGHT   
  
All right, that's it! Am under firm belief that that incredible twittering skank of a maid was behind the Xavier School's Great Rodeo Cheeseburger Geyser Disaster of 2003. Bogus story about interdimensional holes spitting tasty sandwich toppings only works in Bugs Bunny cartoons, for cripes's sake.  
  
Must get decidedly abstract revenge on her, as is obviously a moral imperative. Also, if heroes of Kitty's goofy "Mutant X" fanfics can do it, then so can I.  
  
DAY NINE  
  
After declaring truce between me and highly mopey missing-sorta-girlfriend Bobby, have started organizing plans to torture maid into submission. So far, have figured out that what we need most are a llama, a fifty-gallon tub of peanut butter, every string of Christmas lights we can get, and quality diversion tactic to get teachers out--  
  
Hey, what's that sound?  
  
FIVE MINUTES LATER  
  
Ack! Teachers leaving on plane! All of them! Perfect opportunity to toy with annoying British maid slipping through our fingers due to lack of adequate warning! Can't help but think of what the two of us could have done with an hour's worth of warning, a platinum card, and directions to the nearest Sam's Club.  
  
Okay, onto plan B where we grab what we can and go inspirational with rousing round of zen vandalism. Can't be all that hard to improvise, as Bobby and I have seen more episodes of "Whose Line is It Anyway?" than Drew Carey and Ryan Stiles combined.   
  
DAY TEN   
  
V. good news, as expected grounding for Bobby and I in regards to Maidapalooza called off due to "extraordinarily overwrought position we children were placed in." Yeah, right. Obviously, wailing sobs and clutching frantically at Storm's feet were the right touch. Go, Bobby!  
  
Also, Rogue now back in mansion with Storm-wannabe streak job and major attitude adjustment. Caught the selfish geek making a grab for Jean's ass. Not even about to think what powers she'd get from touching *that*.  
  
DAY ELEVEN  
  
Logan gone to Canada for beer and hooker run with Rogue, never to return. Hooray!  
  
Oh, come on! I can dream, can't I?  
  
DAY THIRTEEN  
  
Storm's accent gone without a trace. Have helpfully put up a reward poster in the cafeteria. Good plan!  
  
DAY FOURTEEN  
  
Ack! Wasn't wavering accent Storm dropped, but my total history grade. If calculations are correct, would have to get 793% on my next history test just to get an F.  
  
Uh-oh. Have reread that last sentence. May be failing math, too.  
  
Okay, life definitely unf--  
  
Hey, is Storm wearing a wig?  
  
Oh, my God! Storm's wearing a --  
  
OW!  
  
TEN MINUTES LATER  
  
Have been pelted in head repeatedly by specifically aimed rain of toads. Now smell like pond full of frogs.  
  
Okay, so maybe it's *not* a wig.  
  
DAY TWENTY-NINE  
  
Have gone on field trip to museum with rest of class to enjoy fun group learning experience.   
  
Wish Artie would stop telling me I smell like toads.  
  
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER  
  
All right, have got seventy-five dollars left of my savings. At five bucks a pop, means I can afford to have fifteen more strangers harass Storm. May start in on new line of questioning about whether or not Adrien Brody's a good kiss--  
  
...  
  
Uh-oh. Have been busted by furious accent-free history teacher. So much for surviving long enough to find out who's the next American Idol.  
  
DAY THIRTY  
  
V. bad news, as have been washing pots and pans for the past four hours. Okay, for the past twenty-seven minutes, but sounds so much more pathetic when expressed in the time on Neptune.  
  
Right now, would rather see my bed than almost anything else on the planet, even a hot fudge sundae with lots of sprinkles or Heath Ledger.  
  
Hmm. On second thought, no reason why having all three not possible --  
  
OW!  
  
Man, when's she's irritated, Jean can be a real --  
  
OW!  
  
Okay, that's it! As being pelted by dinner salad and mysteriously appearing toads not my idea of a good time, am going to bed early.   
  
DAY THIRTY-ONE  
  
Help! Have been abducted in the middle of the night by mysterious soldiers. Cannot understand why they'd take *me*, unless soldiers planning Fourth of July festivites early or just in need of really good "Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon" player.  
  
LATER  
  
Oh, come *on*! Cannot possibly expect me to believe G.I. Joke and minions are real soldiers. Head soldier obviously bad guy from "The Ring," while could have sworn I saw second-in-command on a "Dead Zone" rerun last week.  
  
Am in a horrible mood now. Rogue gets abducted by Magneto, and I get taken by pissy secondary character actors. No wonder Bobby's got the hots for the blubbering wench.  
  
DAY THIRTY-TWO  
  
Yay! Have been rescued from drippy, gross holding cell by Storm and freaky tattooed monkey-thingy.   
  
Unfortunately, anatomy teacher now fish food at bottom of Alkali Lake. However, since anatomy homework hasn't been done since January, honestly can't complain all *that* much.   
  
DAY THIRTY-THREE  
  
School back on. World saved. Everybody home. Okay, Jean's still at the bottom of a lake in Canada counting fish, but *still*.   
  
Huh. Wonder who's knocking at my door.  
  
FIVE MINUTES LATER  
  
Uh-oh. Scott and Logan standing outside dorm room doused in pudding and looking way pissed. As such, have retreated to much safer, less lethal hiding place.  
  
FIVE MORE MINUTES LATER  
  
Um, how long am I supposed to hang onto the window ledge with my fingertips? Can't be sure, but think I might be about to ... to ...  
  
ACHOO!  
  
Uh, ow? Somebody? Ow ... 


	6. Bobby Drake

Author's note: I love movie!Bobby. Seriously. Even though considering how so many Bobby fanfics turn out, I simply *had* to do this to him. Because I'm evil and deserve to be destroyed. :) (I also love movie!Scott. You wouldn't know it, though, the way I treat him. If they'd stop feeding me ammo in every X-Men movie, I probably wouldn't be so hard on him.)  
  
Son of Author's Note: (On second thought, I would definitely still be this hard on Scott. 'Cause it's fun and burns more calories than jogging. I lose three pounds every time I make a snarky comment about the stick up his ass. Go on, you try it.)  
  
*****************************************  
  
The Xavier Mansion Diaries: Bobby Drake  
  
by Troll Princess  
  
*****************************************  
  
DAY ONE  
  
Ack! Professor and Jean off to Washington, and have taken everyone else's last tenuous grip on reality with them. Could have sworn Storm locked in linen closet full of tapioca, but may have been delusion induced by Pixie Stix overdose. Would have let her out, but loud, off-key rendition of "Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall" obvious sign she's enjoying the situation.   
  
In other news, Scott currently dancing through the first floor in his underwear in insane attempt to be just like Tom Cruise. Only watched him for a half hour before I got up the nerve to tell him to stop.  
  
However, definitely not gay. (V.v. good!)   
  
DAY TWO  
  
Have discovered shampoo missing, and am positive that Jubilee behind it, as overheard her grumbling as she passed me in the hall about my "nancy-ass boy-band hair" and Lance Bass. Was going to ask her what she did with said shampoo, but sudden visual of Lance Bass in my head gave her long enough window of opportunity for escape.  
  
Dreams don't count, right?  
  
Right. See? *So* not gay.  
  
DAY THREE  
  
Scott and Storm back from overnight trip to Canada with jumpy girl and unconscious and shirtless muscle man. As everyone else currently down at locked med-lab door not able to get in and presumably licking the window, have decided to make attempt to befriend jumpy girl in kind welcoming gesture as well as to go through entirely different avenue to unconscious muscle man --  
  
Hmm. Have reread last sentence, and definitely only meant first option. Definitely.  
  
Still not gay, I swear.  
  
LATER  
  
Ugh! Underwear drawer filled to brim with pudding. At least, am pretty sure it's pudding.  
  
As boxers currently doing backstroke in sea of tapioca (at least, am sort of sure it's tapioca), am stuck with going commando until next mall outing. Am tempted to inform Jubilee, as squicky mental image stuck in her head and ensuing gagfest in the girls's bathroom bound to be easiest revenge available.  
  
DAY FOUR  
  
Argh! Snarky maid starting to get on my nerves. Came back to my room after classes today to find my drawers glued shut, all of my clothes sewn into a giant ball and injected with a tasty spray cheese center, and my bed on the roof.  
  
Stupid yowling Brit. Am positive she's making up that acccent as she goes along, anyway. Has to be the only reason any sane person in this house aside from me would own the entire series run of "Absolutely Fabulous."  
  
"Black Adder." I meant "Black Adder."  
  
What? What'd I say?  
  
DAY FIVE  
  
Took advantage of history class with new girl today to make highly romantic gesture with ice rose and invitation to be escort on personal school tour. Go, me!  
  
LATER  
  
V. bad end to the day, as missed opportunity to show Rogue around the school. Could not stop watching sloppily dressed med-lab muscle man give himself long, involved tongue bath in school hallway, as sight strangely hypnotic.   
  
Not gay, though. Just have never seen anyone who could make their leg bend behind their head like that, is all.  
  
DAY SIX  
  
Hmm. Have no idea what John did to piss off the girls, but was stunned to find his entire collection of Playboys currently phased through the wall of the boys's dorm. Have no idea how Kitty and Jubes even found the freaking things, as whole box of them safely hidden under my bed.  
  
Still not gay --  
  
...  
  
On second thought, definitely *my* Playboys stuck in wall. Am terribly, horribly upset. Oh, woe is ...  
  
Oh, come on!  
  
DAY SEVEN  
  
Ack! Troublemaking doppleganger apparently wandering through the mansion making my life a living hell. Instead of doing all of my homework, cleaning my room, and going to all of my early-morning classes for me, stupid clone insists on scaring off perfectly good quasi-girlfriend. Can assure you, diary, that making moves like that definitely not going to help with that whole gay thing.  
  
Can be grateful, however, that airtight alibi in my grasp, as was doused from head to toe in nasty sandwich dressing mess spewing out of closet in dorm room and spent the entire afternoon in the bathroom trying to make myself not smell so much like a week-old bacon double cheeseburger.  
  
DAY EIGHT  
  
As if week wasn't going bad enough, was approached by a depressed, blubbering Scott today while in the TV room. Had the nerve to sit next to me on the couch, put his head on my shoulder, and whimper out a request for me to serenade him with slow, sexy rendition of "Dirty Pop" to make him feel better.   
  
Sorry, but no way in hell *anyone* is gay enough to do that.   
  
DAY NINE  
  
Have decided that Jubes could not possibly be anything other than clinically insane, as crazy twit suggested we lighten the mood around here by playing horrible, rotten prank on snarky maid. Would have said no, but am not buying that interdimensional portal bit for a minute and am frankly sick of everyone suddenly getting hungry for Arby's every time they come within ten feet of me.  
  
DAY TEN  
  
Ha! Have saved Jubilee and myself from certain grounding over pranks on maid by using keen deductive reasoning and intelligent use of logical arguments.  
  
Okay, abject groveling and pitiful wailing, but is very fine line between both of them.  
  
Also, Rogue back from being used in bad guy's nefarious plan with weird streak job on bangs and curiously sexy attitude adjustment. Not sure why, but find it extraordinarily difficult to resist her charms when she grabs my ass and calls me "bub."  
  
DAY ELEVEN  
  
Logan off on grand adventure to find his past. Took Scott's bike. And, if sound coming from Scott's bedroom is any indiction, also took his pride and joy, his baby, the love of his life, the only thing that keeps him truly happy, and any semblance of his manhood.  
  
LATER  
  
Have never heard a grown man sob like that. Has gone through five freaking boxes of Kleenex and it's only been an hour.   
  
DAY TWENTY-NINE  
  
Got to act like walking fire extinguisher today, as John once again setting fire to snotty pedestrians. Would probably be twice as pissed about whole sordid situation if Professor not paying me fifty bucks a week to keep John from setting any more priceless artifacts on fire.   
  
However, as Professor said nothing about burning truant jerkoffs to a crisp, cannot possibly be held responsible for food court ass-clown roasting. Woohoo!  
  
DAY THIRTY  
  
Yay! Logan back from road trip with Scott's bike. Entire household now breathing huge collective sigh of relief, as Scott's repetitive whining making every dog in the neighborhood bark like crazy.  
  
LATER  
  
V. bad news, as soldiers now invading the mansion. Either that, or strange dream I had last week coming true. Only way to be sure is if Rupert Everett walks through the front door of the mansion carrying a dozen roses with my name on them.  
  
I mean it, though. Seriously not gay.  
  
DAY THIRTY-ONE  
  
Have offically come out of closet to family. Parents happy, friends out of their minds.  
  
However, followed that by telling family I'm a mutant. Now, friends happy and parents out of their minds. Can obviously not satisfy *anyone* anymore.  
  
Um, scratch that first part, as am not gay. At all. Really.  
  
DAY THIRTY-TWO  
  
Was ordered to stay on plane with Rogue and John while teachers, naked blue supermodel, and stupidly dressed Gandalf lookalike go fight bad guys. No complaints here, as may finally be able to use favorite line of dialogue from "Airplane" to get laid in time of crisis. Go, me!  
  
LATER  
  
Hmm. "Airplane" pick-up line unfortunately more inappropriate than I thought, as "It's so dangerous right now, and I've never been with a man before" only applies to John.  
  
Can only be v. bad, as John stomped out of plane due to horrible timing of request.  
  
I said I wasn't gay, right?  
  
Right. Just checking.  
  
DAY THIRTY-THREE  
  
World saved. Jean fish food. John off to join villainous duo in obvious attempt to either wear much flashier costume or get away with going stark nekkid into battle. Would not be the least bit surprised by either option, but can assure you, diary, that I do not care, as I am absolutely, positively *not* gay.  
  
John is. But I'm not.   
  
LATER  
  
Ack! Spotted Scott and Logan on way to Jubilee's room doused from head to toe in tapioca pudding. (I hope.)  
  
Have no idea what they plan to do what they get there, but am now suffering from squirmy mental image of Scott and Jubes giving Logan long, involved tongue bath.  
  
But still, not gay.  
  
Seriously.  
  
I mean it.  
  
Oh, for crying out loud ... 


	7. Logan

Author's Note: Sorry it's taken so long to get the next one out. People keep expecting me to have a life outside of the computer. *snort* What's that all about, anyway? Sheesh ...  
  
*********************************  
  
The Xavier Mansion Diaries: Logan  
  
by Troll Princess  
  
*********************************  
  
DAY ONE  
  
Cigars: 3. Alcohol units: Was not aware I was supposed to be counting. Definitely don't have enough fingers and toes to make *that* worthwhile.  
  
Beat the s*** out of twelve truckers, two construction workers, a nun, two orphans, and a midget. Oh, yeah. Life is good.   
  
DAY TWO  
  
Cigars: 4 (V. good) Alcohol units: Still not counting, but as second tap from the left now named after me, cannot be good.  
  
Beat the s*** out of fourteen truckers, three construction workers, a rodeo clown, three postal workers, and David Hasselhoff. Have no idea what David Hasselhoff was doing in Canada, but can assure you that his chest not half as hairy or manly as mine. Go, me!   
  
Also, have picked up strange skittish girl with serious attraction for yours truly. Girl obviously swept off her feet by near-slaughter of barroom bully and attempt to ditch her in middle of nowhere in meteorologically inappropriate outfit. Cannot blame her one bit, as serious attraction to yours truly a sign of consciousness in forty-seven states.  
  
LATER  
  
V. bad news, as have been attacked by title character from lame late-80s TV series with Linda Hamilton. No wonder he's pissed, as Sci-Fi Channel not even showing his reruns anymore.  
  
Maybe if I play dead, he'll go away.   
  
DAY THREE  
  
Yay! Have played dead, and am now positive that hairy behemoth gone for good.  
  
Either that, or hairy behemoth the person currently licking my chest.   
  
Not a complaint or anything, just an observation.   
  
DAY FOUR  
  
Ugh. Unconsciousness *boring*. I Spy and Twenty Questions impossible to play alone and with eyes shut. No wonder I don't do this more often.  
  
Wonder how long normal people stay unconscious. At least until the person giving them tongue baths stops, right?  
  
DAY FIVE  
  
That's it. Cannot possibly understand why anyone would stay in a coma, even with the tongue baths. Unfortunately, have woken up to find myself in strange mansion full of geeky mutants. Fortunately, got to take advantage of sudden awakening to grope sexy redhead.   
  
Okay, granted, more of a choke than a grope, but have made worse introductions in the past, so should be having sex with hot doctor in no time. Woohoo!  
  
LATER  
  
V. bad news, as sexy redhead engaged to uptight nerd being devoured from the head down by rabid Viewmaster. Have no idea what she sees in him, as great slurping vacuum where his personality should be currently sucking all of the air out of the room.  
  
LATER  
  
Am totally confused, as personal tongue bath in hallway greeted with fascinated, hypnotized stares. Cannot possibly understand why, as frequency of tongue baths while playing dead sure sign of it being most popular pasttime in this stupid place.  
  
DAY SIX  
  
Argh! Stabbed Rogue while in midst of horrible nightmare and am now unconscious. *Again*. Am really starting to regret ever meeting these geeks at all, as falling into a coma and waking up half-naked starting to become a bad habit.  
  
However, cannot really blame anyone for that last bit, as am definitely sexiest beast in this building. Go, me!  
  
LATER  
  
Ack! Awoke to find Professor peeking under bedsheets appreciatively. Would ask why, but not sure I want to know the answer. Besides, rampant testosterone running through my veins bound to make anyone do crazy things.  
  
DAY SEVEN  
  
Am questioning entire meaning of life, as could have sworn everyone out to get me and me alone. However, elderly coot passed up my hairy chest and rippling muscles and abducted Rogue instead. Have no idea why, as am definitely sexier than Rogue and less likely to cause painful death after getting to third base.   
  
As if that weren't bad enough, entire mansion smells like day-old McRib sandwich. May go after Rogue against everyone else's wishes simply to get fresh air and keep from yacking all over the foyer.  
  
DAY EIGHT  
  
Am thoroughly disgusted right now, as bigoted senator has melted in med-lab while Storm held his hand. Am trying to keep straight face, but constant thought of "Melts in your mouth, not in your hand" has me dissolving into girlish giggles every time Storm walks into room.  
  
However, in spite of girlish giggles, am still most manly person in mansion. V. good!  
  
DAY NINE  
  
Oh, come on! Obviously not bad enough that Rogue abducted to be turned in really cutesy Energizer battery, as have only been in Statue of Liberty ten minutes and have already been attacked by apparently oxygen-deprived naked supermodel and that stupid Sci-Fi Channel reject again.   
  
Would blame the whole thing on my raging masculinity, but unfortunately appears to be attempt by sidekicks to keep me and the geek patrol away from old psychotic fogey.  
  
Don't understand why, since fogey not even half as manly as me.   
  
Hmph. Personally, starting to think blue chick more manly than old fogey.  
  
No, seriously.   
  
DAY TEN   
  
Ha! Have found new way to get Jean to *have* to touch me, as am now on my third bout of unconsciousness in two weeks.   
  
Good news: Jean touched parts of me that I'm positive haven't been touched on brainy boyfriend in months.   
  
Bad news: Was inserting catheter at the time.   
  
DAY ELEVEN  
  
V. good news, as have left mansion to go on grand adventure to find past. Would stay longer, but not about to go for world record for number of comas in shortest amount of time. Also, would like to keep a shirt on for more than five minutes.  
  
Have taken Scott's bike, since would not be surprised if the car in "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" has seen the light of day more than this thing has.  
  
DAY TWELVE  
  
Have arrived at Alkali Lake after only four hours on motorcycle. Oh, yeah. May *never* give motorcycle back at this rate.  
  
Considering possible hint to mysterious past actually frozen wasteland, may need to go on an extended road trip to make myself feel better. V.v. good idea, indeed!  
  
DAY FOURTEEN  
  
V. bad news, as arrived at Disney World only to find that tea cup ride shut down for repairs. Am awash in despair, as broken tea cup ride means having to go on "It's a Small World" ride twice.  
  
DAY SEVENTEEN  
  
Spit off Empire State Building. Old wives's tale about spit from Empire State Building hitting pedestrians obviously untrue --  
  
Hey, what was that scream for?  
  
FIVE MINUTES LATER  
  
Um, forget I said anything about spitting off Empire State Building.  
  
DAY TWENTY-FIVE  
  
Mall of America not nearly as big as everyone says. Nearly bought Rogue a "My sworn protector went to find his past and all I got was an unrequited crush and this lousy T-shirt" top, but as long slogan means shirt roughly large enough to house Barnum and Bailey's circus, decided to leave shirt in store.  
  
DAY THIRTY  
  
Have returned to mansion only to find Jean groping Scott, Rogue groping obviously suicidal "boyfriend," and Ororo racing off to hopefully grope public menace #1.  
  
Definitely must have been away too long if effects of Wolverine-level manliness have already worn off. Not a problem, however, as have only been in the mansion twenty minutes and have already been offered enough long, involved tongue baths to keep me clean until Christmas.  
  
LATER  
  
Ack! May not be most manly beast in mansion anymore, as during invasion of mansion by armed soldiers, deposited unconscious kid with student roughly the size of Montana. Student offered to help, but politely declined him, as my testosterone let out inadequate whimper and cowered in fear at the sight of him.  
  
ONE HOUR LATER  
  
Have escaped soldiers invading mansion in Scott's car with Rogue, ice-making boyfriend and snotty sidekick. Ha! Am definitely most masculine in car --  
  
Argh! N'Sync?! May stab claws directly through radio, as fruity boy band music like kryptonite to my delicate testosterone. Can already feel my five o'clock shadow sinking back into my skin in abject fear.   
  
No wonder brainy nerd doesn't ever smell like aftershave, as favorite music used as aural depilatory.  
  
DAY THIRTY-ONE  
  
Great. Have been shot in forehead by idiot rookie cop. Can only be grateful he didn't shoot me in the chest, as lose far too many perfectly good shirts that way.  
  
LATER  
  
Woohoo! Jean overwhelmed by my obvious sexual superiority. Currently crawling all over me. V. good news --  
  
Hey. What the hell are these scars?  
  
FIVE MINUTES LATER  
  
May never stop gagging, as Jean actually Mystique in disguise. Stupid blue beanpole also turned into Storm, Rogue, and Stryker. Can only be grateful that she wasn't still making out with me when Stryker popped up.  
  
Ewww. Now have nasty mental image that may *never* go away. As campsite far away from nearest liquor store, may have to resort to guzzling airplane fuel straight from the tank.   
  
DAY THIRTY-TWO  
  
V. good news, as creepy female knockoff of me filled full of adamantium and left to get gross and rotten at bottom of giant bathtub, and Stryker currently chained to concrete wall outside plane. Heard dirty rumor there was battle elsewhere in drippy old dam, but can't possibly be very important as has nothing to do with search into mysterious past.  
  
DAY THIRTY-THREE  
  
All right, that's it! Totally understand that jerk's hottie fiancee is dead, but Scott's constant blubbering getting incredibly annoying. Also, sight of his quivering, pouty bottom lip strangely hypnotic.  
  
TWO HOURS LATER  
  
Wow! Can now understand Jean picking Scott over me, as geeky twerp apparently sex-crazed band geek in disguise.   
  
Granted, has not brought up any naughty deeds done with flutes, but is only a matter of time as kinky bastard's proposed almost evrything else --  
  
Hey.  
  
Is that tapioca I smell? 


End file.
